


Shot Through the Heart, and You're to Blame (You Give Love a Bad Name)

by amooniesong



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Angst, Hardcore Minecraft, Hurt No Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Mask and Goggles, Mentions of Sapnap George and Fundy, Post 6th December Wedding Video, Post-Wedding, Realistic Minecraft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2020-12-06
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27916822
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amooniesong/pseuds/amooniesong
Summary: He loved Fundy, and he loved George. He had to get away from the wedding. He just didn't expect to get away like this...
Relationships: Clay | Dream/Floris | Fundy, Clay | Dream/GeorgeNotFound (Video Blogging RPF)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 173





	Shot Through the Heart, and You're to Blame (You Give Love a Bad Name)

Dream wasn’t sure where he was. When he fled the wedding, he’d searched for the furthest world he could find to join and he’d run as far from spawn as he could before his trembling legs gave up and his knees hit the ground. He didn’t care about the dirt on the dress, he didn’t give a damn about the mud on his arms, all he could think about was how hurt he was. And, really, it was all his fault.

He loved Fundy, at least he thought he did. The man bent over backwards to make him feel safe, to impress him, to show his adoration and Dream loved that. He loved the attention, he loved feeling as if he was a prize, something that someone  _ aspired  _ to. Maybe it was selfish of him to want to feel like that, but hell, it gave him a sense of validation that he’d grown up without.

He loved George, too. But George never saw him as  _ above  _ him, George saw him as an equal and treated him as such. They’d been friends for so long that when things became more physical, when things became closer, neither of them had tried to stop it. George hadn’t objected to him marrying Fundy before today, but they’d never put a label on their relationship before and so it had seemed nonsensical for that to be a reason for him not to marry. In hindsight, he should never have accepted Fundy’s proposal. In hindsight, George had acted much differently after he announced he was engaged. He was possessive, he would hold his hand a little tighter and kiss a little longer. He should have seen the signs, he should have realised when he would rather spend time with his best friend - his lover - that his marriage with Fundy was doomed.

But he didn’t. He didn’t see the bigger picture, didn’t realise that he loved  _ being  _ loved by Fundy, he didn’t realise that he was  _ in love  _ with George, and he hadn’t the heart, strength, or wisdom to put a stop to things until he’d figured out where he stood. 

George’s lips still burnt against his own, the poison kiss haunting him even though he was worlds away and hundreds of blocks from spawn. Through his blurry, tear filled vision, he had no idea where he was. He just knew he was alone, the sobs leaving his chest the only sound around him. 

He deserved to be alone.

Dream had no idea how long he cried for - without knowing what world he was in there was no telling the length of the day cycle - but he knew that eventually he had to stop. Monsters would start spawning and he was alone with no weapons, no tools, not even a crafting table.

_ God damn crafting tables.  _

He brought muddy palms to his face and wiped at his eyes until they were too sore for tears to keep falling. He got to his feet for the first time since he’d arrived and he swallowed in as much air as his lungs would allow, trying to calm himself enough to survive the night. Taking in his surroundings, he discovered he was in the middle of a forest, and he could see the setting sun’s rays glimmering through the leaves of the canopy above. He didn’t have much time, so he needed to quickly find shelter. If he remembered the way he’d come from it might have been a better bet to return to spawn and head back to a world he knew he would be safe, but he wasn’t thinking straight. A logical solution wasn’t exactly going to present itself to him.

As he set about gathering some wood to craft a few tools, he realised just how impractical the dress was going to be to wear. He’d need to find some cows - he could skin them for leather and make clothes a little easier to run and fight in - and he could take steak for food as well. He hadn’t realised how long it had been since he’d eaten and his stomach began to growl. That was never a good sign, certainly when he was so unprepared for the night. If he was hungry, he wouldn’t regenerate health over time. 

He took in a breath to steady himself and clutched the wooden sword close to his chest. This was okay, the heartbreak of today was over with now, this was what he did. He survived despite the odds, he won, a wooden sword might not be much but he’d be okay.

Right?

No. Not right. Definitely not right. He’d clambered up into a tree where the only thing that could get him were spiders, but the number that had spawned terrified him. An hour after the sun had set, he wasn’t sure he’d stopped fighting even for a moment. Whatever world he’d found himself in, he could tell it was set to the hardest difficulty, and he just prayed it wasn’t a hardcore world. He’d wanted to get away from the wedding to have space to figure things out on his own, he didn’t want to die. 

But he supposed his fate wasn’t up to him quite as much as he wanted it to be. He felt a long, furry leg grab a hold of his own and he kicked as hard as he could, hearing the pincers of the spider grab onto the skirt of his dress and tear it as he sent it flying away. It almost felt like a blessing that he didn’t have to deal with the fabric anymore, but his legs were now exposed to the cold and to whatever else wanted to attack him. It wasn’t like a skirt was going to do much in the way of protection, but it had been better than nothing.

When the tree he was on eventually became infested with spiders, Dream took his chances dropping down to the ground. Sure, there were more things down here that wanted to kill him, but he also had more ways to escape. It was easier to fight if he needed to when he wasn’t worrying about falling to his death.

At first he ran, but he quickly ran out of energy and found himself having to walk to conserve enough strength to get him through the night. He tried to avoid death using his mind - constantly scanning the horizon for threats - and while that worked for a time (and he managed to dodge a number of zombies and creepers that way), it wasn’t perfect by any means.

He didn’t see the skeleton - it was too far away for him to spot - but it certainly saw him. It’s aim was perfect, too. There was no warning shot that missed him by an inch that could warn him of the danger he’d walked into, just one single arrow piercing his chest and sending him falling back onto the ground.

The remains of the beautiful white dress he had worn began to stain red with blood, mixing with the dried dirt that had already ruined the fabric. His mouth tasted of iron, and his breathing was slow and shallow. It had been dark already, but he could tell the corners of his vision were growing steadily darker with every second that passed.

He wondered how long it would take for someone to find him - if they even would. He wondered if Sapnap would look, he’d given him away after all, and he just wanted Dream to be happy. He assumed that George and Fundy would be too busy being at each other’s throats to spare him a second thought. It was ironic, given that the only person in the wrong was him. 

Dream closed his eyes, and he wondered if there would still be a body left for his friends to find. He’d died before in world’s with respawns, but that had always been quick. Bleeding out confirmed his worst fears that this was indeed a hardcore world, and he didn’t know if he would come back from this.

He just hoped, if he didn’t, that everyone would forgive him.

**Author's Note:**

> gotta go fast


End file.
